


caught me in a daze

by toews



Series: baby [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pet Names, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toews/pseuds/toews
Summary: 5 times Jonny calls Patrick baby without meaning to + 1 time he does.orJonny's subconscious knows Patrick's his baby before he does.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Series: baby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795537
Comments: 8
Kudos: 228





	caught me in a daze

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solizabeth/gifts).

> Jonathan Toews just exudes "that's my baby and I'm fucking proud" energy around Patrick, how could I not?????
> 
> Title from floating by alina baraz ft khalid

**ONE **

Patrick’s just finished taping his stick for the game in Anaheim, zoned in on it to make sure it’s how he wants, despite wrapping it meticulously when it happens the first time.

“Pass me the tape, baby,” falls out of Jonny’s mouth softly, but it’s like a shock to Patrick’s system, the way he jolts at it, to look up at him. 

Jonny’s eyeing his own stick with a hand floating out to Patrick, expectant. After a moment of nothing landing, he looks at Patrick with furrowed eyebrows and dark eyes. He looks at him so confused that Patrick almost thinks he imagined it; that he tacked the word on himself.

“What did you say?” Patrick asks, even though he knows what he said. 

Even though his voice is barely audible above the _baby, baby, baby, baby_ thundering around his head in Jonny’s voice and not just how Patrick imagines he’d say it.

“Pass the tape?” Jonny urges, but he doesn’t wait this time. He just reaches around Patrick to grab it from the other side of him while he sits there dumbfounded.

**TWO **

It’s not until Patrick’s sitting at the table of the restaurant that he guesses chugging his gatorade so he could recycle the bottle at Honda Center was a horrible idea. 

He tries to hold out on going to the washroom, at least until he can decide what he wants but he can’t focus much beyond the need to pee. He doesn’t last, jumps up and almost crashes into their waitress on his way.

When he gets back, all the guys are chatting amongst each other. He frowns at the lack of menus left on the table, including his when he sits down. 

Their server comes around then with drinks and Patrick’s about to ask when she settles one in front of him too. Then his question lags too slowly to catch her, because he sits there staring at the drink confused.

He nudges Jonny’s knee then, where he’s droning about the power play to Duncs and asks, “you order for me?”

Jonny doesn’t even bother turning to him properly, just glances over his shoulder and pipes, “of course, baby.”

He looks back to Duncs as soon as the words leave his lips, so he misses the small smile that blooms on Patrick’s face when they do. 

**THREE **

They’ve had a Mario Kart tournament set up at their hotel in LA, but there’s not a lot of them left playing since it’s been hours. Jonny’s still here though. He organized an entire bracket at the beginning, just so there was a sure winner which is to be determined this round.

Jonny’s lucky it’s a best of five for each round because the way he gets obliterated at Rainbow Road will never not be funny, no matter how many times he does. He’s flailing his hands in frustration like it’s unfair, like he’s the only one slipping and sliding around.

Patrick doesn’t even notice beyond his amusement, that he’s reaching out and to hit his thigh. It’s not to get his attention, but because of the second hand embarrassment at how big of a sore loser he is. Jonny barely notices either.

If you count Jonny’s forearm landing in his open palm, trapping it there, and “hold on, baby” slipping from his lips as him barely noticing. That’s what Patrick would call it because it’s so absentminded, so nonchalant, like he does it every day, like it’s nothing.

It’s not nothing to Patrick. Not when he flexes his hand and Jonny leans into it. Not when his warm skin has Patrick’s flaming up, wondering if Jonny can feel it, if he’ll notice that.

**FOUR **

That night Patrick climbs into Jonny’s bed for a movie. When Jonny grumbles about it, he just reminds him, “_you _ wanted the bed right across the TV, _ Jonathan,_” like he knows will annoy him.

The pillow he socks at him is warranted but Patrick just catches it, says “thanks” cheekily, and stuffs it behind his neck.

Jonny rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t fool Patrick. He can see Jonny pursing his lips so the smile threatening to break out doesn’t. 

They end up watching Inception because it’s one of Patrick’s favorites. Jonny whines about it and Patrick lets him because he’s so full of shit. Leonardo DiCaprio is his favorite and he knows that Patrick knows that.

They didn’t really plan for how long it is though, how easy it could get to zone out a little when you’ve seen a movie a few times over. Patrick didn’t really plan for how he slouches lower and lower in Jonny’s bed or how he slants into him. How each time he blinks his eyes open heavier than before; how he’d start to extend how long he keeps them shut each time they close.

Jonny’s mumbling to him, muted by the noise of the TV but Patrick feels so comfortable he doesn’t try to decipher what. The TV noise ceases then and he can feel Jonny shuffling down, warm next to him. 

Patrick could be dreaming, but it’s stark against the silence when he says, “c’mere, baby.” Then he tugs Patrick away from the edge of the bed, almost on top of him, to get the covers free and over them. When he’s tucked in next to Jonny like this, Patrick doesn’t really care if he is, just doesn’t want to wake up.

  
  


**FIVE **

They get a blowout win against the Kings, and for once it’s in a city where they can go out without anyone caring about it. So they do.

“What do you want, baby,” Jonny slides in close to him, breathes hot against his ear, when they get to the bar for more drinks. 

Patrick thinks for the first time, _ what is this? _

He turns from the bar, and Jonny’s caving him in against it. He’s smiling at him so chill, so fucking normal, that it hits Patrick that it’s unintentional. 

He glares at him and he says, “stop.”

He pushes at Jonny, shoves his shocked face away and storms off. He’s so angry, at Jonny for not meaning it and at himself for wishing he did. He’s caught in the crowd now, because he really didn’t have any idea where he was going. He doesn’t get far when he feels Jonny’s hand hot on his, yanking him back around so hard he’s crashing into his chest at the force of it. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jonny’s yelling at him. At least that’s what Patrick thinks he’s yelling. He’s pretty fluent in Jonny’s tantrums, confident to put his lips around the right words under the noise of this place.

Patrick knows he won’t be able to hear him, so he mumbles at him, “don’t call me baby.” 

He watches Jonny’s eyes strain to catch what he’s saying back. He sees Jonny lean in low, the lights flickering over his face where his lips try to mirror Patrick’s, trying to make sense of it. Patrick laughs because he’s concentrating hard and Jonny stops, abruptly. 

Patrick flicks his eyes up to his and it's useless, because then Jonny’s turning around. He’s gripping Patrick tight and dragging him out of the crowd, out of the club and onto the sidewalk.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jonny repeats, probably, because Patrick totally got it right. He doesn’t let him go, just looms close, eyes trained on Patrick’s face so he can catch it this time.

“Don’t call me baby,” Patrick enunciates very clearly, watching how his brows shoot up, how he rips his hand away from Patrick to run it through his hair instead.

“Oh.” He says.

“Oh,” Patrick mimics.

“_Oh, _ Patrick.” Jonny scowls back.

“I didn’t mean to,” he confirms, looking uncomfortable now and Patrick deflates.

“I know you don’t Jonny. Just stop.” Patrick tries not to complain necessarily, but Jonny catches it, the petulant lilt to his tone. 

“I’ll stop,” Jonny leans in, “if you want me to,” he stipulates and Patrick’s breath catches. 

That’s putting it lightly. He really inhales so fucking sharply, he thinks the force of the air could’ve punctured his lung or some shit like that, if that was possible. He can’t explain it, and Jonny can tell. He must be able to, the way he flashes his teeth at it and grins, almost feral, shrugging, “but I don’t think you do.”

Maybe Patrick did puncture his lung, because now it’s like he can’t get enough air in. His heart’s pounding against his ribs and he’s on the wall of the club, on a crowded sidewalk, watching Jonny watch him and Jonny’s right. He doesn’t want him to.

“Let’s go,” Patrick says back, can barely think beyond the urge to kiss his stupid, cocky, beautiful fucking face.

**\+ ONE**

Jonny gets him in their room quickly, crowding him in against the closet; the door creaks from how rough he pushes Patrick into it. He gets one of his hands around Patrick’s jaw and Patrick’s eyes fall shut when he leans in to kiss, but his lips land chaste on his cheek. Easy mistake, totally a misjudgment from being tipsy. That’s what Patrick thinks until Jonny trails chaste kisses across his jaw. He’s messing with him.

Patrick tries to turn his head, tries to coax Jonny’s lips to his, but Jonny’s grip is firm and it only tightens to keep him there. Patrick whines, frustrated, but Jonny’s thumb just moves under his jaw to tilt his head away and he sucks where Patrick’s jaw meets his neck, relentlessly. 

Patrick whines again, but this time he goes lax in his grip and just enjoys it. He even pushes his neck into Jonny’s mouth when it starts to pull away. He centers Patrick’s head and brushes his thumbs under his cheeks until his eyes until Patrick’s blinking up at him dazed, lips parted on an exhale, watching, waiting and Jonny smirks.

“Want something, _ baby_?” He snipes like a weapon and fuck is Patrick feeling attacked. He glares and Jonny laughs, before crashing his mouth down to Patrick’s, unyielding, while Patrick practically climbs onto him trying to get more. 

He hitches his leg around Jonny’s hip and Jonny gets with the program. He barely fumbles at all while he meets his grappling leg, gets his hand under his other thigh and wraps them both around his waist. He barely even stutters while he rocks up and in exactly right so their dicks line up between them. 

Barely at all, except when he gasps and chokes a ragged, “fuck, baby.” Patrick couldn’t tell you the noise he makes out, wouldn’t know he made one at all if it didn’t vibrate against Jonny’s mouth.

“Jonny, c’mon.” He gasps, pulling away this time and with how close Jonny is, he can see how his eyes dilate. He says again, “Jonny,” and his eyes grow impossibly darker.

“Of course you’d get off on someone saying your own name,” Patrick laughs. 

Jonny’s eyes go soft then, he brushes his thumb back and forth over Patrick’s jaw where he’s holding his face up to his and smiles, “just you, baby.”

It shouldn’t wash arousal through his veins how it does, he shouldn’t feel it pool tight in his stomach like he does, but fuck does he. With all of Jonny’s attention on him like this, of course he does.

“Get me off,” is Patrick’s reply, but he wants to make it equally romantic so he tacks on, “Jonny,” at the end, sucking his bottom lip, fluttering his eyelashes and it works.

Jonny’s eyes flick back and forth between them before he gets his big, capable hands on Patrick’s ass again. He rocks his dick in, quick, like he needs it too, before leaning away from the door with Patrick—_fuck—_with Patrick hanging onto him, with Patrick’s legs tight around the thick core of him until Jonny’s shins hit the bed and he tips him back onto it.

Patrick bounces on the bed a bit, maybe. Maybe it’s his heart bouncing him from how hard it’s beating, like it’s begging him to just fucking breathe for a second. He’s heaving in while Jonny shucks his shirt off and then drops his pants so he’s standing there in only his obscenely tight boxers, that do nothing, _ nothing, _ to hide how hard he is. 

Jonny runs his hands hot under his jeans, up his calves, behind his knees. He yanks him closer like that, so he can get him close enough to undo his jeans and slide them off too. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is, punches through him how hot it is that Jonny can man-handle him like this. 

Jonny slides his boxers off quick and Patrick shucks off his shirt while Jonny gets his own, so when he’s crawling back over Patrick, it’s just the gratifying press of skin everywhere they can reach.

Patrick wraps his legs around Jonny again, just to dig his heels in the sweet swell of his ass and then he thinks he might come right there, because that’s Jonny’s precome jetting on his abs, on his dick.

“Fuck me,” Patrick gasps, and Jonny’s nails dig into him, like he’s thinking about it.

“Fuck me.” He says again.

“Pat?” He says, serious now.

Patrick opens his eyes to meet him and tries, he tries, to look cocky but he feels vulnerable when he says, “got lube in my bag,” like maybe Jonny won’t.

It’s a stupid worry, like he wasn’t just admiring how interested Jonny’s dick is, but it’s kind of nice to throw Jonny off like that, see him scrambling off the bed and over to Patrick’s bag.

“Side zip!” Patrick calls when he roughs around the main one and starts scowling at it.

“Could’ve started with that,” Jonny gripes, like the extra ten seconds was too long to be away and Patrick likes it. 

“Could’ve started with that,” Patrick mimics, but he likes it so much he’s taking the lube out of his hands and squeezing some out onto Jonny’s fingers while he says it. 

Jonny rubs the tips of his fingers together then taps one against his hole, teasing and Patrick can’t stand it. He can’t, not when his dick is leaking as much as it is and Jonny’s cock is staring at him, begging for it back. He’s about to knock Jonny over when he slides one in smoothly. 

Patrick thinks it’s only fair to reward him with kisses while he works him open like that. Jonny kisses him like he’s starved for it, like maybe they could share air. He’s sucking Patrick’s fucking brain out of his tongue when Patrick mewls and turns away but Jonny doesn’t stop to breathe. He just works his mouth back to Patrick’s neck and Patrick knows, can tell by how Jonny bites against it, that he’s going to have the world’s biggest fucking hickey, like some stupid teenager. Maybe multiple. It makes his dick twitch.

Patrick’s just about had enough, he’s open enough, which he thinks he communicates when he whines, “c’mon.” 

It’s a shock to his system when he feels Jonny’s hand on his dick, but he bats it away so quick, because fuck no is he coming without Jonny’s dick inside him. He does grab onto Jonny’s forearm then, and knocks him down so that Patrick can kneel over him. 

“Jonny, fuck me.” He says, grinding down on Jonny, gets him wetter when his head catches just right. 

Jonny’s chest is heaving and Patrick reaches down to thumb at his nipples, experimentally, loving the sound it draws out of him when he does. Jonny’s head tips back and the way his neck stretches out like that, Patrick can see why a hickey could be appealing, but he’s an adult so he restrains himself.

“Jonny, are you gonna fuck me?” He asks this time and Patrick can see the gears turning in his head behind his glossy eyes. He tugs him close so he can roll them over and hover over Patrick. 

“Whatever you want,” he answers, folding his knees and lining his dick up right, pushing in the tiniest bit when he pauses.

“_Baby _,” Jonny’s hips stutters against him, slipping his head in just enough to stretch but not enough that it pops in, so he’s spread open on it. 

“Fuck, you’re fluttering around me,“ Jonny moans before sliding in deep the rest of the way, punching Patrick’s prostate soon enough that Patrick sounds the same. 

Jonny fucks him with strong languid thrusts that get him right every time. He throws an arm around his eyes, sure that he looks as fucked out and raw as he feels. Jonny wraps his legs around his waist, leans in close and says “don’t get shy on me now, baby,” and Patrick keens at it.

He drops his arm and blinks up at Jonny, at how fucking beautiful he is. His lips are shiny and swollen as shit from where Patrick couldn’t stop biting on them. He reaches his arms out and Jonny drops onto his elbows to meet him. He alternates gentle kisses with hot pants and Patrick doesn’t mind it, just wants to be close to him. 

Jonny shuffles to get his hand on Patrick’s dick, where it’s a furious wet red between them, and Patrick curves away from it.

“Jonny, I’ll come.” 

“Yeah, baby, c’mon,” he hums back and it only takes a few pulls before he does.

“Peeks,_ oh baby,_” Jonny groans, hips jerking erratic before pumping in, in, in and then collapsing on him. Jonny's a heavy fucker, but he's warm and Patrick really doesn’t want to move. Especially not when Jonny gets enough sense to resume his soft kisses.

When Jonny pulls out Patrick can feel the hot slide of his come dripping out of him. He laughs because it’s really fucking hot, but there’s no way Patrick’s going again. Jonny looks like he could, the way he’s staring at Patrick’s hole, brushing his fingers in and out, rubbing it into his skin a little.

Patrick just kicks him out of his stupor and frowns, “Jonny, I’m tired and now I’m dirty.” 

“Let’s shower, I’ll keep you steady.” Jonny suggests and he smiles at Patrick so sweetly, such a contrast to the cocky little shit he usually is, Patrick almost agrees.

“Fuck no, go get a warm washcloth.” He grins and then laughs when Jonny looks at him, put out. He goes anyway and cleans Patrick up gently. He even snatches the comforter out from under Patrick and drags the other one over from the other bed before getting in next to him.

“Let’s sleep,” Jonny mumbles, tired now too, but Patrick’s already halfway there.

**____**

When Patrick wakes up, he blinks his eyes open slowly at first, a small smile spreading on his lips. Then jumps out of his skin because Jonny’s staring at him. 

“Morning, baby,” he smiles, like he isn’t the biggest creep.

“What is this?” is what Patrick replies and let it be known that Jonny’s not the only one who needs coffee in the morning to function, because all he meant to do was smile back.

“What?” Jonny asks, reaching a hand to brush his fingers on his neck absently.

“Why’re you callin' me baby?” Patrick presses.

“Oh,” his fingers still, “I mean… It feels right.” Jonny answers, pressing in a little. 

Then a beat later, “you’re my baby,” he explains and Patrick likes that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning in to tuck his face in Jonny’s chest and press a kiss there.

“Glad you agree,” Jonny laughs, “because there’s a big hickey on your neck.”

Patrick just smiles against his skin. Patrick likes that that too. 

**Author's Note:**

> a fic without angst? from me? *paul rudd voice* who would've thought???
> 
> i'm @19jtoews on twitter :)


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